Gears of War - Darker Days
by TheKingRaven
Summary: This story follows Gear Sergeant Scott Hollan through the early days of the Locust War and events during his time as a Commando during the Pendulum Wars. Mostly OCs with a few canon characters making appearances throughout. This story is going to try to stay as close to the canon of the games/novels as possible.


**CHAPTER ONE**

 **1200 hours, Archangel, Tyrus**

 **Two Weeks After the End of the Pendulum Wars**

Life has a funny way of kicking you in the ass sometimes. I spent every spare moment I had during the war thinking of home, but now that I'm home I can't stop thinking about the war and my old unit. The sounds of celebration can be heard clearly from the city streets outside, the streets are packed with civilians and Gears on leave celebrating the end of almost a century of constant warfare. Warfare that I had only been part of for just five years. I hadn't been the most law abiding of teenagers and racked up an impressive criminal history by the time I was eighteen and thrown in front of a judge who decided a stint in the army would teach me the discipline and respect for authority that I was missing. Two days later I was in a bus with a dozen other Gear recruits on our way to basic.

Maybe it was because soldiering came easy to me, or because of my bad record with the Archangel PD, that Captain Darryn Koneth took an immediate interest in me and made sure I found my way into the 91st Tyran Strike Brigade, Special Tactics Group. One of a handful of elite COG Special Forces Units. I was immediately thrown into the fire operating behind enemy lines in the Ostri Front, where I was able to put my destructive talents to real use.

I was good at it. The anger and hatred I had harbored inexplicably as a kid disappeared with every successful mission and as I formed bonds with the other Gears in my unit. I saved lives and I took lives. All the killing I did never really bothered me, I always thought that every Indie soldier I killed was one less Indie soldier who would try to kill fellow Gears. It wasn't something I lost a lot of sleep over, hell it still isn't.

For all the celebration in the streets and bars and restaurants outside my apartment building it isn't really a feeling I can share with the thousands of other Archangel citizens. Constant deployment behind enemy lines took its toll on me and only a few months before the end of the Pendulum Wars I was given an honorable discharge from active service at the rank of Sergeant due to what the army doctor called 'combat induced stress'. They felt I was a liability to the Gears around me and threw me out just as quickly as they had sucked me in. All I have now are my COG tags, the commando knife I had been given after finishing training, a few unit tattoos and the snub pistol I had pilfered from the COG armory before leaving.

So once all the celebration is over all of the Gears on leave will return to their barracks and I'll be stuck here in a small apartment. It is probably for the best though, with the Pendulum Wars over the COG controls almost every nation on the planet. The only UIR states left fighting are small and insignificant ones like Gorasnya and the COG can stomp on them at their leisure. Still though I'd rather be twiddling my thumbs in an Army Barracks with other Gears for company rather than trying to find an honest job to fill the gap in my life. I can see a little of the celebrations in the street out of a window in my apartment and even with the thick glass and being several stories up the yelling and cheering sounds as if I'm right on the street. Curiosity gets the better of me and I step outside my apartment and walk to the window at the far end the corridor, it is a far better view than the one I have in my apartment.

The mass of people in the street is truly something to behold, thousands of people clad in COG blue and silver are everywhere. The closet thing I can remember that resembles what I am seeing now was when the Sabers beat the Eagles for a spot in the thrashball playoffs. Royal blue banners are hanging over the streets connected from light pole to light pole with the word VICTORY emblazoned in silver letters. Blue and silver confetti covers what little of the asphalt that I can see. There were probably going to be even more fireworks displays once the sun went down, just like the previous night and the night before that and the night before that.

The strange thing is that no one seems to be upset by the constant noise. There are several older tenants in my building and all of them seem perfectly happy to put up with the nonstop cacophony taking place all day and night. I can't help but wonder how much longer people will keep this up before they get bored and things go back to being normal. Who am I kidding there wont be a normal, things will be a lot different without the threat of a UIR attack hanging over the population's collective heads. The sound of a door shutting makes me turn my head and my hand reaches down to my thigh where my pistol would normally have been, threat assessment and response is still hardwired into my brain from training.

Shit I'm only a few months removed from active duty, five years of special forces training isn't going to be suppressed that quickly and probably never will fully be suppressed at all. It was a woman who lived up the hall from me. I've only seen her a few times and each occasion wasn't long enough for more than an acknowledging nod or smile. Its only when she makes eye contact with me that I realize I don't remember her name.

She smiles at me and starts walking over carrying a laundry basket in her left arm. Automatically my mind begins to analyze her, she has to be in her early twenties like me with long dark hair that she almost always wears in a messily tied ponytail. Her clothing, a loose fitting tanktop and a pair of old jean shorts, seemed on the older side which means they are probably comfortable clothing one would wear on a day off. None of the clothing I can see in the basket seem to be high end just more jeans and t-shirts, but I'm no fashion expert. Her skin is on the pale side, almost bleached looking like you get from spending a lot of time in front of a computer monitor.

Overall she isn't unattractive, her body seems to be in decent physical shape though it isn't anything like the physique of some of the female Gears I've seen. She's about a head shorter than me. The casual smile on her face is pleasing and for some reason makes me smile back at her.

"Enjoying the celebrations?" she asks me as she steps up to the other side of the window and peers out of it.

"I have to admit it is quite a view."

She nods her head. "Yeah, I can't ever remember when everyone in the city was this happy. I haven't seen one person argue in this building in the last few days, that includes the old couple down the hall."

I know who she's talking about. An older couple who had to be the source of the phrase 'bickering like an old married couple' because that is all they ever do. I have the misfortune of being their neighbor with pretty thin walls. But they've been unusually quiet and even smile at me when I pass one of them in the hallway.

"They're old enough to probably remember how the war started," I say. "I can't blame them for being happy it is over, the old man probably served at some point."

"Like you?" She says looking at me for the first time since joining me by the window. "You're in the army right?"

I don't know what to say for a few seconds. I've hardly ever spoken to this woman, let alone have I ever mentioned being a Gear. The confusion must show on my face because she laughs playfully and points at my chest. I look down and my COG tags have slipped out from inside my shirt. I still can't bring myself to take them off because it'll be a confirmation that my time in the army is truly over and not some bad dream I'll wake up from.

"Those mean you're a Gear right?" She asks again.

I reach down and grip one of the tags between my thumb and index finger and grunt. "I used to be, Sergeant Scott Hollan."

"Chelsea," She says extending her free hand. "Chelsea Ritter, part time barista, full time computer junkie." Called it. I take her hand and give it a gentle shake, my grip could crush her hand in a dozen places if I'm not careful. "So if you're a Gear why aren't you down there having fun? There isn't anyone down there who would turn down buying you a drink or two."

"I said I used to be a Gear, I was discharged."

"Really, well I still think you can get a night of free drinking, just walk into any bar on the street with those tags out." She cocks her head slightly. "Me and a few friends are going out tonight, we would love to have the company of a Gear, active or not."

"Sorry but I've already got plans." I lie, I don't feel like socializing much tonight even though I know it would do me some good. "Alcohol isn't really my thing anyway, I'm more of a coffee guy." Its the truth, not meant to be some cheesy pick up line that she takes it for, which I realize she must be thinking after telling me she is a barista. She smiles at me though, obviously happy that a Gear had made a pass at her, accidental though it was.

"I work at the coffee shop on the corner so come by and see me sometime and you can get your coffee fix on me."

"Count on it."

She gives me a toothy grin and walks away back down the corridor towards the elevator with significantly more sway in her hips. I can't help but eye her over as she walks, my eyes lingering on her lower half more than anything else. A woman would definitely make life easier, it would give me someone else to focus all my thoughts and energy on. I look back down at my COG tags for a few moments and back up at the swaying hips of a lovely young neighbor who'd been so taken by them.

Go army.


End file.
